Cordial
by jessicalange
Summary: It's Cordelia's birthday, and she isn't one for celebrating birthdays.


"Happy birthday to you," her mother hums wryly as she closes Cordelia's bedroom door behind her as she steps in. Cordelia rolls her eyes from her spot at her vanity, something less like irritation and more like. . ._amusement _working it's way through her veins. Mismatched brown and blue eyes flicker up to watch the Supreme saunter across the room, a small dish with a cupcake in hand. It's chocolate, and has a lit candle jabbed into the center of it. Cordelia takes the opportunity to ponder briefly on how strange it is to hear and see her mother celebrating her birthday. She certainly never has before, but then, she's rarely ever been here at all before. "The girls — at least, those capable — are helping Laveau with the protection wards," Fiona explains briefly, the usual scorn in her voice when she mentioned Cordelia's students. "And don't worry, I didn't tell anyone it was your birthday."

Cordelia's gotten used to it by now, so the commentary slides off of her easily. The voodoo queen has been here only two days and Cordelia tries to avoid her as much as she can, not that the woman makes such a thing easy for her, hanging both her lack of a child and the betrayal of her now-dead husband in her face as often as possible, although she's certain she doesn't do it intentionally. The mere sight of the voodoo practitioner makes her blood boil, but they've 'smoothed' things over. For the most part.

"Good. How's it coming along?" she inquires as she takes the cupcake, a smile creeping across her thin mouth despite herself. The most Fiona's ever done for her birthday was when she was much, much younger. Extravagant gifts and people she didn't even know, sending presents via mail or in person. Some, just to get a look at the only child of the Supreme. Those traditions faded quickly, and before long her birthday became nothing more than a passing day amongst many others. That had lasted long into her adulthood, until she had married Hank.

He'd insisted on celebrating each year.

She had hated it, but done it for his sake — she now regrets doing _anything_ for his sake.

Once she had been brought to the academy, Myrtle insisted upon doing the exact same thing, each year. A cake, gifts from her and the other students. Small, but surprisingly nice.

And still, it's just as nice a thought, coming from her mother. Others would perhaps be the slightest bit upset at having only a cupcake for her birthday. But this is from Fiona Goode. And honestly, that means quite a bit. She usually avoids her birthday altogether, having never gotten a single acknowledgment of it from anyone, save for Myrtle and Hank. And now, just Myrtle, although she hopes the woman has forgotten, with everything that's happened as of late.

"Slowly. But well enough," Fiona replies, watching her examine the cupcake until she finally gives in to the urge to take it back, unwrapping it and setting it down on the plate with an irritated sigh. "I didn't _poison_ the thing, Delia. It's just a goddamn cupcake."

Startled at the woman's outburst, she looks up at Fiona, but she doesn't look particularly angry; simply a little annoyed. She relaxes her shoulders and blows out the candle without making a wish, then pulls it out, licks the frosting from it and sets it on the plate as she bites into the cupcake. Cordelia pauses, licking the corner of her mouth before glancing back to Fiona, who's silent beside her. "Who made this?" Cordelia cares to ask after a moment, half-warily. "Not you, certainly. You're a shitty baker."

Fiona breathes a laugh outwards into the open air at her daughter's blunt words, and it lingers as she presses a hand to her chest in a poor parody of offense.

"Ouch."

"If I could hurt you with words, mother, you'd be six feet under by now," Cordelia responds dryly with a roll of mixed irises, taking another bite of her cupcake as Fiona snorts.

"I got it from some bakery across town. Nineteen bucks for a goddamn cupcake, Delia. You better appreciate my hard work."

"You have a penthouse in New York, mother," Cordelia shoots back, nearly rolling her eyes again. "I'm sure you could deal with an expensive cupcake."

Fiona retaliates by swiping buttercream frosting from the cupcake and licking it off her finger. It's a childish action, one she entirely expected from her mother beforehand, so she doesn't care to flinch. The cupcake _is_ rather good, not that she'd ever admit to such a thing. She's never been the biggest fan of sweet things, but it has a dark chocolate filling that's. . .nice. Again, she'd never admit it, because her mother would hold it over her until she went to her grave. God, she can hear the woman's victorious croons already.

By the time she finishes off her cupcake, Fiona is simply gazing her like she's of some great fascination. Like she's something that belongs to the museum, and eventually her staring gets Cordelia at a point of extreme unease that she gives in and looks up. "What?"

Fiona's expression is shockingly soft by the time she glances up at her, but it's smoothed over into the one she's used to seeing on her mother's features the moment Cordelia looks her way. Still, she's caught a glimpse of it and it's odd. It would be heartwarming if they were two different people, but they are the way they are and it's far from heartwarming; simply strange.

The Supreme shakes her head, tousling her hair with a hand. "Nothing. I'm going to go check on them downstairs to make sure those idiots you call students haven't blown anything up or set anything on fire yet."

Cordelia's lips twitch, despite herself. She's always been very disapproving of her mother's hatred towards her girls, but she can't help herself — not this time. There's a thought in the far back of her mind that perhaps Fiona has put something in the cupcake, but that's ridiculous, so she pushes such a thought away. Fiona wouldn't do that to her, and it makes the whole situation odder for her when she realizes that she thinks that with complete certainty.

When her mother's at the door, Cordelia calls her back on a whim.

"Mother?"

Fiona looks back at her, lifting one brow wordlessly.

Cordelia plays with the hem of her skirt for a moment. It's black, as she's taken to darker colors since her blinding. It seems more fitting, somehow. And clearly, Fiona appreciates the change — not that she particularly cares about the woman's opinion.

She finally looks up again, and to her surprise, Fiona's still waiting for her, seeming uncharacteristically patient. "Thank you."

There's that soft, almost _affectionate_ look on her mother's face again. This time, it stays. "You're welcome, Delia." She pulls open the door and pauses in the doorway, looking back at her. Her smile is genuine. The most genuine Cordelia's ever seen it, and it's strange but this time it causes a spark of (irritating, wholly uncalled for and completely stupid) warmth to spawn in her chest. Things are changing, and not only around the academy.

"Happy birthday, Delia."

Her mother adds as an afterthought, "And if you want another cupcake, you'll have to get it yourself. I'm all out of birthday charity."

Yes — _that_, she's always been far more comfortable with as far as their relationship goes, although she certainly wouldn't mind more kindness. Not that she expects it. Her mother leaves—

—and Cordelia keeps the candle.


End file.
